


Without Showing the Pain

by Pippinpaddleopsicopolis (Barnable)



Series: They're Counting On You [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Chronic Pain, Day Three: Invention | Culture, Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, POV Hakoda (Avatar), Post-Canon, Sokka (Avatar) Has Chronic Pain, Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Sokka Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27346204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barnable/pseuds/Pippinpaddleopsicopolis
Summary: Sokka has a hard time adjusting to life after his injury and invents something new to help himself get through it. But when it doesn't work quite how he wanted, Hakoda takes it upon himself to make sure Sokka understands just how loved he is.
Relationships: Hakoda & Sokka (Avatar)
Series: They're Counting On You [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995538
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90
Collections: Sokka Week 2020





	Without Showing the Pain

Everyone knew that Sokka was struggling, but Hakoda was really the only one to understand the full extent of it.

Since coming back to the tribe, Sokka spent most of his time in what he referred to as his, “invention igloo”. Hakoda was fully aware he was only staying in there to hide out from the rest of the world, from the hard truth that his leg might hurt for the rest of his life, but he didn’t say anything. His son went through years of war and some of the worst trauma imaginable. He deserved some time to rest and be by himself, especially while he was still recovering.

The first time he started to understand how hard things were for his son, Hakoda went to check on him when he didn’t show up to dinner. He called to Sokka from the entrance, waited for a response, and got nothing. When Hakoda walked inside, afraid something was wrong, he found his son asleep in a pile of papers, scrolls, and half-finished concepts he hadn’t so much as mentioned before. He sighed and gently nudged Sokka, carefully lifting him from the ground. Sokka stirred, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

“Hey, bud,” said Hakoda gently, sliding an arm around his son. He helped him up to his feet, smiling softly when Sokka rubbed a hand over his eye. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Thankfully, his tone actually sounded okay, but tired. Sokka sniffed, leaning into his dad’s side, and hopping slightly to keep his left foot off the ground. Hakoda wanted to offer him more support but understood that he valued his independence and decided against it. “Did I miss dinner again?”

“You did, but it’s okay. There’s still some left if you’re hungry.”

Sokka shook his head. “Just want to go to bed. Tired.”

“All right.” He was definitely tired. That was the only time his sentences got so choppy and disjointed. Hakoda made note to make sure that Sokka got something to eat in the morning to make up for what he missed at dinner, and helped him back over to his bed; almost carrying him by the time they got there thanks to how Sokka dragged his leg. “You going to be all right?”

“Fine. Need to lie down.”

At that point, Hakoda already figured out what happened, but it was Sokka silently asking for help sitting down that pushed him over the edge. He wasn’t using his cane. There was permanent damage in his leg, and he needed to use it, but he struggled to get around with it on the snow and opted to go without more often than not. It was not good. Sokka assured his dad he would start using it more, but he didn’t. He never did. He just let it get worse until he could barely even get around on his own.

Choosing not to address it right away was difficult but Hakoda knew that it was the decision he had to make. Sokka was in no place to discuss something like that and trying when he was more awake and alert would be better. So, he gave his son a quick hug, said goodnight, and went on his way. Even if he did send one more look over his shoulder as he did so because he was aching to go back in there and care for him.

Each morning after that, Hakoda brought his son three warm towels. He complained every time, insisting that he was fine, and he didn’t need anyone looking after him, but took them regardless. It helped. Sokka made that more than clear on the bad days when he requested more, but for the most part, he refused to talk at all. He hid away in his invention igloo, always scribbling away at something new the moment Hakoda went in there. He was working on something and that much was clear, but he would never reveal what it was. He would never do anything but smile and say, “you’ll see.”

For a while, Hakoda went along with it. He accepted that Sokka wanted to keep it a secret and he accepted that his way of coping with the pain in his leg was to tough it out and nurse it with warm towels. But then he went to check on him one morning, weeks after their ritual began, and found that Sokka was nowhere to be seen. Hakoda checked his bed, his invention igloo, and spoke to everyone who would’ve seen him, but no one knew where he went. Concerned, Hakoda took a stroll around to see if he could find him and stopped when he found his son sitting just beyond a snowbank.

“Sokka?” The moment he spoke, Sokka’s head whipped up, but he looked away quickly, brushing his mittens over his face before turning his gaze back to his feet. Hakoda let out a sigh, approaching his son slowly and kneeling down beside him. “Hey, are you all right, son? What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” Sokka sniffed, shifting away so his dad wouldn’t be able to see his face. His hair had gotten longer, his wolftail tickling just past the bottom of his neck. How had he not noticed that before? “I was just— I had this stupid idea and I thought it would work but I tried it and it doesn’t work so it’s dumb and I’m a failure and useless and I don’t know why you keep me around. If I were you, I’d have sent me off somewhere else by now.”

“No, don’t say that. Hey.” Hakoda wrapped an arm around Sokka’s shoulders, sighing when he brushed his mittens over his face again. “You’re not useless and you are _definitely_ not a failure. Don’t ever think like that. You are so important to me and the tribe and I promise we would not know what to do if you were gone.”

“That’s not true. I don’t even do anything anymore. I just sit there and doodle all this shit that never works. And I try to fix it, I really— I wanted it to work and I wanted to be better, but this was a stupid idea, and it doesn’t work and I’m never going to be a warrior. I can’t do anything.”

“Wait, what are you talking about? Where is this coming from? Please, Sokka. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to help me,” grumbled Sokka. His tone didn’t sound angry, just tired. Upset. The look on his face matched, even if Hakoda could only see half of it from the way he was turned. “I want to figure it out on my own. I want to do things on my own and I— I thought I found a way to help myself, but I messed it up and it doesn’t work.”

“I don’t understand.” Hakoda gently placed a hand on Sokka’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze. His son didn’t react. “What did you do? Is this about that secret project you were working on?”

He nodded. “I wanted to find a way to help myself fight again so I could train and defend myself like I’m supposed to, but it didn’t work. I’ve tried all these designs and none of them are practical and I can’t stand up right in the snow and it— I just feel so _stupid_ because this is my home and I should be the most comfortable here but honestly, I feel better in the Earth Kingdom right now because at least there they have reliably solid ground.”

Hakoda wasn’t surprised by that confession. He knew that Sokka struggled with the snow, but he also knew that his son did his best not to show it. That he felt admitting to that was a sign of weakness and at one point, flat out refused help because he felt pathetic having to be helped around the place he’d lived his entire life. It was almost impossible to try and convince him that wasn’t true. That having to ask for help wasn’t a sign of weakness, it was strength.

“You want to show me what you made?” It was a gentle nudge, not even a request. Hakoda only wanted to give Sokka the opportunity to talk about his inventions, something that he loved, not force him into it. When his son failed to speak, he tried again. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know that if you want to share with me, I’m here. Just because your leg’s a little beat up doesn’t mean your brilliant mind is any different.”

“It’s… here.” Sokka reached over to the other side of his outstretched leg, grabbing his cane, and holding it out for his dad to see. Hakoda frowned, baffled as to what he was looking at. “I wanted to be able to fight again. Well, I mean, like I used to. So, I was working on this thing. It was supposed to be half support, half weapon, but it’s not working like I wanted it to and I’m not— _I’m_ not working how I wanted to.”

“It’s okay. You’re going to get better at this, bud. You’ve already taken such huge steps since you first got off your crutches. I know it’s really hard, but you can do this. I know you can. Here, why don’t you show me how this thing works, and we’ll see if we can’t figure out how to fix it?”

He was deliberately dodging a deeper conversation because he knew digging would only make things harder for Sokka. Instead, he gave him the chance to gush about his project, his inventions, the thing that he loved even more than fighting. Yes, Sokka wanted to be a warrior since he was a little kid, but ever since the war ended, Hakoda had realized that Sokka’s _real_ passion and talent lay with mechanics and strategizing. Especially with his bad leg, Hakoda was trying to gently nudge his son in that direction, but it wasn’t easy. Not when he’d had his sights on one place for so long.

Thankfully, talking about his invention seemed to help. Sokka babbled on and on about his idea, about how he wanted to put together a sword and a cane, but he couldn’t get it to work the way he wanted to and he couldn’t properly test it because he couldn’t stand up long enough on the uneven ground. Hakoda offered to help him, and Sokka refused a few times, going straight back to explaining the mechanics of the device and how he intended for the sword to remain concealed. Sokka finally smiled when Hakoda applauded his concept, and that was all he really cared about.

“…so then, theoretically, I could just pull it out and defend myself right away,” Sokka finished, sliding the cane apart on his lap. His face fell suddenly, his gaze drooping down to his knees. “Except it doesn’t work. It’s not fast enough. Or I’m not fast enough. Every time I’ve tried it, either it got jammed or I— I tripped and fell in the snow.”

“Well, that explains your hair.” Hakoda reached out to tussle Sokka’s hair, laughing when he pulled back in that iconic ‘stop embarrassing me’ way. He sighed and brushed the snow off Sokka’s head, holding his hand on the back of it in a reassuring, loving manner. “You know no one thinks any less of you for what happened, right? If anything, that leg is just a reminder of how damn strong you are.”

Sokka nodded, but he didn’t say anything. He leaned into his dad’s grasp, biting down on his lip as his foot shook in the snow. It wasn’t hard to tell from the look on his face that he was still hurting, both physically and mentally, and Hakoda wanted to be there for him in any way he could. He slid his hand down and wrapped his other arm around his son, pulling him in closer to his shoulder. Sokka didn’t speak, but he nuzzled into his arms, his left leg not shifting from its place on the ground.

“Just tell me what you need, okay, bud? Whatever is best for you.”

“I want to try,” Sokka mumbled, sliding his arms around his dad’s torso. His entire body was shivering, Hakoda realized, and he started to wonder just how long Sokka had been sitting out there in the brunt of the wind for. “I want to try and make it work but whenever I stop using the support, it hurts and then I just— I feel so stupid because I used to be this amazing swordsman, and now I can’t even stand up on my own.”

“I know it’s hard,” said Hakoda, rubbing his shoulder reassuringly, “but you don’t have to be ashamed of it. I know you’re not just hiding out because it’s hard to walk around. That wouldn’t stop you. Just please know that nobody thinks any less of you for what you’re going through. We know it hasn’t been easy and we know you’re struggling and it’s okay to talk about that. It’s okay to let us know when you need help.”

“I need help. I need— I made some adjustments before you came over here and I want to test them out again, but I can’t stand up on my own right now. It hurts.”

“Okay. Come here.”

Hakoda stood up, holding out a hand for Sokka to take. He did, wrapping his arm around his dad’s stomach and leaning on him for support when he stood up. Sokka held the cane in his right hand. His left balanced against his dad as Hakoda helped him to stand. He balanced his cane on the most even patch of snow he could find, explaining to his dad what he was doing with each movement. Whatever he did to the cane must’ve worked because if there was a problem before, Hakoda couldn’t find it now.

He couldn’t help but share Sokka’s smile when he saw his success. They tested it a few more times, just to be safe, and then Sokka pulled away from his dad. Hakoda was ready to grab him immediately if he fell, but after a few stumbles and an adjustment to his cane, he seemed okay. So, they sparred. It was light and easy and most of the time was spent on Sokka getting to test out his new invention, but it was good. Even when Sokka stepped weird, winced, and held up a hand to ask for a break, it was good. Because he acknowledged that it hurt and that he needed a break.

They did more laughing than serious training out there, Hakoda bopping Sokka on the head multiple times when he let his guard down to his son’s displeasure, but it was perfect. It was perfect because Hakoda finally got Sokka to smile again after weeks of minimal, forced expressions and too many nights needing to be carried back to bed. Finally, he was happy again, and even at the point where they went too far and he tripped, chest rising and falling furiously as Hakoda helped him to the ground, he didn’t seem upset, only tired.

“Hey.” Hakoda lifted one hand to Sokka’s face, kneeling in front of him in the snow. His son’s head was drooping, his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his breaths a little too shallow and pained. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered quickly, but didn’t open his eyes. “Hurts.”

“You want to go back home and put some hot towels on it?” Sokka nodded, reaching out to his dad for support standing up. Hakoda complied quickly, helping him to his feet and wrapping an arm around him quickly. He didn’t move right away, waiting for Sokka to take a deep breath and open his eyes before they moved. “Hey, you know I’m proud of you, right, son?”

Sokka smiled, and it wasn’t forced that time. “I do.”


End file.
